As a saltycat I
can be difficult
keeping people off
I’m unimpeachable
I’m the hare, you’re the tortoise
speeding the outdistance
I require your assistance
please put some brakes on me.
I say I haven’t got time to cook your tea.
You explain to me
in Marxist terminology
how my relationship to the means of production
determines my place in society.
I say, I still don’t have time to cook your tea.
I go on my P.C.
think about science and technology
we have new tools now
to try a different way
maybe it too will fail.
I say I’ve really no ideas for tea.
I learn about civilisations collapse
our overarching story
hunter gatherers, slavery,
feudal peasantry, wage slavery
survivors of floods and ice ages
predators and plagues
I want to be a noble savage
I want a rerun of a time
when animals not men
were held in high esteem.
I say I’m not even sure what we have in.
I think of your beloved Marx and Engels
young men
racing revolution across the continent
devising a science
for a newer, fairer world
redistributing wealth
writing their Manifesto
beginning the international.
I say isn't it only fair if you start tea.
I’ve been mulling over the funerals missed
likewise the ones attended
I have learnt to grieve in anticipation
we have hollowed out our living spaces
emptied, scarred them
ransacked and traumatised them.
I say why don’t you just look in the damned fridge.
I am the anti-hero
of my own autobiography
I dedicate this to my friend in Sydney
who knowing me
has always found the humour
in a saltycat
who lets me write
who listens
who doesn’t think I’m cracked.
I say let’s get a takeaway for tea, why not?
